Hell’s Adolescence
by Little Illy
Summary: It’s havoc for Angel and the gang when Spike’s age is reversed again! This time he’s not a cute 6yr old. He’s a rebellious teen, with a bad attitude! Old friends, new enemies and more Wes and Fred subplot!
1. Here we go again

**Chapter One  
Here we go again**

Disclaimer: "Raising Hell" and all the plot lines there in are mine, but most of the characters belong to Joss and the Powers That Be. Incidentally- I didn't steal this sequel plot from Higgy ; "Raising Hell" was based on a challenge set by her- so I decided it's sequel should be within the realms of the challenge too… just so happens we both think Spike would make an awesomely cute teenager P

A/N: They said I was crazy, they said it couldn't be done, they said I should damn well stop before I start! –Actually, no one said that… BUT SOMEONE SHOULD HAVE!

Well- you guys won. You asked for a sequel and here it is. Hopefully this will cover a few of the things I missed out on in the last fic (including Tilly and big Spike together for cuteness) as well as have an awesome new (only slightly contrived) plot of it's own!

I'll try and fill in the background of the characters (and what happened in the last story) as I go along- so you can read this and not the other. Though this is meant as a sequel, so you might want to take a look at "Raising Hell" (and hey, I got lots of lovely reviews- so it can't be that bad P).

By Joss, I know I'm crazy for doing this- but since there was no intervention to prevent my madness- without further ado, may I present: The sequel to "Raising Hell"

* * *

"The Prophesised time has come. I have consulted the stars, cast the bones, seen the future- the time is now. I have been heard by all the demons of this land and others; my war cry echoes across all the planes and all the dimensions. The oracles and mystics know what is to come- my rising- and the war of wars that will follow. I have seen the future; I will win. 

"However, there is one who could defeat me. The righteous vampire poisoned with a soul and damned to walk the earth fighting for good. Should he and his band of mortal allies fight- I will lose. That would displease me greatly."

"Of course sir, I would not want you displeased." Dr Mordred said. He knelt before a tall shadowy chair, the occupant of which was shrouded in darkness.

"I dare say you would not." The voice agreed, "but there is a way you can ensure I am not displeased- and ensure once I have control over this dimension, you will not be killed- as is my plan for most of the pitiful creatures here."

"It would be my honour, sir. Anyway I can be of assistance- I am only to happy to oblige." Dr Mordred offered hurriedly.

"The prophecy rests on two figures: the vampire and the son." Said the figure.

"The son?"

"The unlikely boy, bourn in his bloodline. If he fights beside the vampire I will lose. However without this ally the vampire will fall, and the world will fall after him. I need you to eliminate the child."

* * *

Matrix style green streams of data played over the computer screens in Wolfram and Hart's science labs as the machines processed the data from the latest experiment. Carefully watching the results was Winifred Burkle, head scientist and zealous over worker when it came to anything sciency. Every now and then she would move the mouse to click on a particular stream of flowing data and separate one of the little green symbols. Fred was getting steadily more excited as the symbols she was looking for appeared on screen. The test was going well. 

Her concentration was shattered when the lab door was flung open and a blond man in a dark coat stormed in. "Fred!" Spike said. "We've got trouble."

The slender physicist snapped to attention. "What is it?"

"It's Angel." Spike said, his tone heavy and grim. "He's… he's a poncy great poof."

Fred relaxed with a coy smile, "Spike," she chided, "don't scare me like that."

"And it gets worse," Spike continued dramatically, "He's all out of nancy-boy hair gel! He'll die without it you know."

"Be serious," Fred laughed. "What did you want?"

"To look at your lovely face." Spike said. When Fred's expression remained dubious, he continued, "And- Wes was getting kinda boring. Kept nattering on about some boring old prophecy I don't understand and don't give a toss about."

"So he's still working on it is he?" She asked in a 'just as I expected' disapproving tone.

"Yeah…" Spike said, "Why? Bother you; does it?"

Fred sighed, "No, it's just, he's been doing nothing else for days!"

Spike perked up at the possibility of a lovers tiff. A remnant from his "Passions" addiction, Spike was still excited by flimsy and contrived romantic tension. "Ooh," He said, "Trouble in paradise?"

"Not really," Fred admitted, "I just thought that was the girlfriend's job- being annoyed and jealous when he works late." Suddenly she looked flustered, "Can I say that? Am I a 'girlfriend'?"

"God I hope you're Wes' 'girlfriend'." Spike said, "He doesn't have much else going for him."

"Now that you're here," Fred said excitedly, "Do you wanna to help me with my experiment?" Spike's expression said 'definitely not' but Fred continued anyway. "It's like a DNA test for transferable demonic genes. Like for vampires or demons of possession. The actual demon DNA is passed from one host to another. So, to identify demons of the same parentage all you have to do is isolate the pure demon DNA and run them against a possible descendant's demonic DNA. Kinda like a paternity test for vampires."

Spike was lost and uninterested, "sounds just great." He said with a smile, "Is Tilly here? I kinda promised I'd play with her- get in some quality time with the little smudge."

"Yeah," Fred said, sad to have lost a potential guinea pig for her test. "I took her out for ice-cream this morning, and it was such a long walk back to Containment I thought she could come and play here for a while."

Spike raised an eyebrow at his friend, "When are you gonna stop fluffing around and take her home for good?" he asked.

Fred avoided his eyes, "Spike, it's not like that. Wesley and I love Tilly, but we're not… we can't… It's not like that." She finished adamantly. Spike knew she was lying.

Six months ago, when Spike had first been reverted to childhood, something had changed for Fred. She had fallen head over heels in love with being a mom. Spike called her his 'aunt' and she had been both big sister and mother to the little vampire. When Spike had returned to his proper age he had left a gaping hole in Fred's life.

In the last three months it seemed Tilly had begun to fill that hole. Matilda was an orphan, a demon child abandoned by her parents and stuck in the care of Wolfram and Hart. She 'lived' in the Containment Department of the evil law firm, a place usually reserved for dangerous demonic animals that belonged to Wolfram and Hart or it's clients. She had befriended Spike during his time as a child and they were still very close now that he was big again. He acted as her cool older brother.

Tilly had also achieved the almost impossible and won over the stony ex-watcher Wesley. She had been enamoured of him ever since he had "saved her" one afternoon from the dark shadows that haunted her demonic side. His own unpleasant childhood had made Wesley reluctant and reticent of letting a child into his life but he had come to love Tilly- more than he admitted.

Everyone could see how perfect Tilly would be for Fred and Wesley. She was the last piece in the fractured strange puzzle that was the fang gang's lives. Tilly completed the Wes and Fred picture so perfectly. But neither adult had ever been very good at expressing their feelings and even though they both desperately wanted Tilly, neither was willing to tell the other. Thus, nothing changed between them- Tilly remained the property of Wolfram and Hart.

"You said it yourself," Spike said, "Containment is like a hell. Tilly needs a home- and it should be yours." His manner changed from serious to his usual nonchalant- indicating the end of the topic. Fred wasn't going to be convinced today, he could tell. "I'll go find the smudge then, I'm sure there are some ninjas she'll want me to fight." He sauntered out of the computer lab and into the prac room proper where all the strange experiments and lab equipment was kept.

Spike spotted Tilly at the back of the labs. Her cream skirt and jumper almost blended in with the pure white labs, only her long black curly hair gave her away. She was sitting on a bench at the back, spinning a watch glass full of blue liquid. Clearly she was entranced by the swirly colour the liquid produced as the curved glass rotated.

"Hey Tilly," Spike said as he approached, "who's your favourite evil vampire turned tortured hero? I'll give you a hint- starts with an 'S'."

Tilly didn't look up as she replied "I hate you."

Spike was taken by surprise, "since when?"

"Since Tuesday," said Tilly. "You promised you'd come play with me on Tuesday- I waited all afternoon- and you never came. Why?"

"I was busy." Spike pleaded.

"For three days?" Tilly asked incredulously.

"I was saving the world." Tilly raised an eyebrow, a gesture she had learnt from Spike, to indicate her disbelief. "Ok, I was drinking and then sleeping." Spike admitted. "But I'm here now!"

"Well you can leave now," Tilly snapped, "Because I hate you."

"You can't hate me Tilly," Spike insisted, "because I'm your best friend and the coolest vampire with a soul ever and I always let you watch all 150 stations in Angel's office," a smile was spreading across Tilly's lips as the girl succumbed to Spike's pleading. Spike saw his chance and took it, using the one thing Tilly couldn't resist, "and- there are ninjas behind you!"

Tilly jumped to her feet, forgetting her Spike-hating-game to play the much more fun ninja-fighting-game she and Spike were so fond of. "Where!" She gasped.

"To the left, behind the Bunsen burners!" Spike said.

"Oh no! There's ten more behind you!" Tilly said.

"I'll take those guys," Spike whispered to his comrade, "You get the others."

"Ok," Tilly said, heading in the direction of a bench littered with Bunsen burners and tripods, "watch out ninja scum- death is coming- and her name is Kick-Butt-Tilly." She charged with a yell toward her imaginary foes, lashing out fiercely with a kick that would probably have hit a full sized ninja in the knee- but in Tilly's mind she got her target in the face and he went down with an groan of anguish. She lashed out with a one-two punch and kung fu sound effects at two more ninjas nocking them into a third.

Spike on the other side of the lab tried to think of the best way to kill his enemies without having to do much running or embarrassing imaginary sound effects. "Ha ha!" He said loudly, so Tilly would be sure to hear him and would know he was playing, "I'll get you with my throwing-stars." He made a few attempts to look like he was aiming throwing-stars at the advancing ninjas. As soon as he was sure Tilly wasn't looking he stoped and lent on a desk to wait for her to finish killing things.

Tilly thrust out at her last ninja opponent, palming him twice in the face and then kicking him in the gut. He fell down with a definite (imaginary) thud. She turned to Spike triumphantly. "All down lieutenant Spike." She said, "Hey, where'd your other four go?"

"I killed them." Spike reminded her, "With throwing stars."

"You only had six throwing stars." Tilly said, "What about the rest?"

"I uh…" Spike floundered for a plausible explanation, "got them with my… telepathic powers? Yeah, that's it."

"Really?" Tilly asked. Spike waited with baited breath to see if she would buy it. "Well… awesome! You should teach me how!"

"You just think really hard of what you want to happen, focus your inner energy, and then it will happen." Spike explained. "I know, why don't you try by thinking of locking the doors so no more ninjas can get in."

"Ok," Tilly said. She screwed up her eyes and stuck out her tongue as she thought very hard about locking the doors, and the ninjas trying in vain to open them. "Done." She announced. "Wow, it worked! There's no more ninjas. But- what do we play now?"

Spike pondered the question, "Poker?" he suggested.

"Spike!" Tilly wailed, realising that had been his plan all along. "That's not as fun as ninja fighting."

"But we did that." Spike argued, "and we stoped the ninjas so good they can't get in. So lets play poker."

"Aunty Fred says I'm not allowed to play poker with you any more." Tilly said coyly.

"And what does your Uncle Wes say?" Spike asked.

Tilly grinned, baring the gap where her left incisor tooth was still growing in, after she had lost the baby tooth. "He says I can keep playing, because you always lose to me."

"Damn right." Spike grumbled. "Well c'mon then, wouldn't want to go against your Uncle Wes' wishes."

Tilly pulled herself up onto a chair as Spike began to shuffle a pack of cards from his pocket. "50 dollarsstarting bet." Tilly said, reaching into her skirt pocket and pulling out a handful of 50 and 100 dollar bills.

"Where did you get all that money!" Spike asked incredulously.

"Like I said, you keep losing to me." Tilly said. "Now deal the cards."

* * *

Tilly had won six consecutive hands and taken a considerable amount of money from Spike, when the vampire's phone rang. He put down his hand and rummaged in his pockets for his cell, saying to Tilly, "Better take this, might be a life or death phone call." 

Tilly scoffed, "You just don't wanna loose again." While Spike answered his phone, Tilly reached over the table and lifted up his cards to see what he had.

"Angel." Spike greeted the familiar caller, "Can't save the day without me huh?"

"That's not it," Angel's terse reply came through the phone. "I did fine without you when you were in Sunnydale impotent and soulless. I just thought it would be a good idea to have some back-up on this."

"It's ok," Spike insisted, "You're afraid to take this one in your old age, and you wanted someone younger and quicker to be there- just in case."

"One- we're both more than 100 years old, and two-I'm immortal, I don't age!" Angel growled. "But seeing as you decided to strap on to me with the soul and the path to redemption thing, I thought you might want to actually help someone and 'atone' a bit. Instead of drinking all day and gambling with six year olds."

"Alright, alright," Spike relented, "I'll be up in a minute. And for your information, I wasn't gambling with a six year old." He hung up on Angel before adding, "Tilly's seven now." He turned back to Tilly, "Sorry, Tilly. I gotta go. Hero business and all that."

Tilly looked disappointed, but she covered it quickly, "That's ok. You were just gonna lose again and I'm getting kinda tired of winning."

Spike smiled, "I mighta won this time." He said.

"No," Tilly replied, "I checked your cards, a pair of sevens- I had three queens and a pair of aces."

"I'll lose some more money to you again soon." Spike promised.

"How soon?" Tilly asked.

"Tues-" Spike paused, "Monday. And I really will come. Scouts Honour."

"You're not a scout." Tilly said.

"But I ate a few when I was evil." Spike countered.

Tilly wrinkled up her nose, hiding a smile. "Ewww! Don't say that."

Tilly walked Spike to the door of the science labs where he paused to say goodbye to Fred. "See you later love." He said, "And call me if that Watcher-boy of yours keeps neglecting you. I'd be only too happy to step in and make him jealous for you."

Fred smiled, "and how would you do that?" she asked.

"I have my ways." Spike smirked. "I'll see you later Tilly. I'll bring more money next time."

"Tilly," Fred chided once Spike had left. "have you been playing poker with Spike again? I told you not to. He used to bet with kittens you know… and it's just not right for a child your age to keep winning all that money." Fred stoped lecturing when she caught sight of Tilly's sad expression, "What's the matter? I wasn't really angry." She added hurridly.

"It's not you." Tilly promised.

Fred pulled the little girl onto the chair, stroking her dark black hair. "What is it then?"

"It's Spike," Tilly complained, "I think he doesn't like me."

"What gave you that idea?" Fred asked in surprise.

"He hardly ever visits anymore." Tilly explained, "And he always has to go 'save the world' like it's so much more important than me."

"Spike loves you." Fred assured the little girl. "We all do. But he does have to 'save the world' sometimes. All adults have things they have to do. But it's spending time with you that makes working not so hard- that way there's something to look forward to."

Tilly curled up on Fred's lap watching the hypnotising green data still playing over the screens. "Really?" she asked.

"Really." Fred said. She kissed Tilly's head, "How about I finish collecting this data, then we go find Wesley. We'll drag him away from his prophecy for the night and have some dinner at home. I can take you back to Containment after Dinner."

"Ok," Tilly said happily, "can we have tacos for dinner?"

Fred smiled. "We sure can."

* * *

"That is the last time I ever help you Angel." Spike growled. He pulled of his famous duster and inspected a rip in the hem. "You're ruined my duster!" 

"It's just a little tear," Angel said. "And what did you expect getting in my way like that?"

"In your way!" Spike cried, "I saved you. You were about three seconds from decapitation, mate."

"I had it under control," Angel said, "It was you who threw me off. You nearly got us both killed. Next time I say 'stay back' do it!"

"You're not the boss of me!" Spike said.

"Actually, yes I am."

Spike glared at him, "I'm gonna have to find some black thread." He said, inspecting the rip in his duster again.

"Just leave it with Harmony," Angel suggested, "I'm sure the firm has some demonic tailor in their clientele who can fix it for you."

"Nah," Spike said, "I don't trust them. They'd do a crummy job. You have to use invisible stitching on the inside, see?"

"What do you know about sewing?" Angel asked.

"I've been around for some 100 years," Spike said, "I've had a lot of time to learn stuff."

"I've been around for longer than you, and I never learnt to sew." Angel countered.

"You spent half of that time eating rats from the sewers." Spike said.

Angel glared at the younger vampire. "Pansy." He said.

"What did you say!" Spike demanded.

"I called you a 'pansy', Spike." Angel clarified, "You had a century as a demonic vampire and you used that time to learn how to sew."

"You're the nancy boy who spent the last ten decades crying about what a bad boy you were!" Spike yelled. "You want to see a pansy? Take a look in the mirror!"

"Uh, vampire!" Angel said, "I don't have a reflection."

"That's it nancy boy!" Spike said, pulling up his fists as if he were going to fight "You're going down."

"Don't be so immature." Angel snapped.

"Stop saying that!" Spike yelled, "I'm not a kid anymore, Angel. You can stop treating me like one."

Angel looked tired and angry as he replied, "Just go home, Spike."

"No." Spike said, "You can't tell me what to do."

"Spike, I don't want to fight about this." Angel said. "I don't want us to fight at all!"

"Then stop being such a bossy ponce and we won't!" Spike said.

"This isn't about me, Spike." Angel said.

"No, of course not, because you never do anything wrong." Spike muttered, "And I'm always the one screwing things up." He suddenly turned away, "Fine. I'm leaving." He threw his duster around his shoulders and stormed off down the corridor.

"Spike," Angel called out after him, "Spike!" but the younger vampire didn't look back.

Spike stormed down the hallway, his insides boiling. Things had been getting more and more confusing between him and Angel. Things had always been tense and strange. Since he was first sired, Spike had half respected half resented Angel. He had once desperately wanted to impress the older vampire. When Angel got a soul and abandoned his vampire children, he had shattered Drusilla's heart. Spike resolved to hate Angel for that. A century later they had become more like rivals over Drusilla and then Buffy. The past between them was complicated- to say the least.

But at least then Spike knew how to act around Angel. They would bicker and fight and stay allied enemies.

But things were different now. Things had been slowly changing for a while, but they came to a head when Spike was turned into a child. Angel was forced to look after the child-Spike, playing the father and sole guardian. According to the bizarre spell a demon psychiatrist had put on him- Spike couldn't grow up until he gained the love of his "father". The term had turned out to be metaphorical- Angel being the "father" who need to love Spike. Though he had been reticent at first, Angel soon warmed to Spike and eventually did prove his love for the child. Which of course meant Spike grew up again.

The attachment between Spike and Angel was impossible to understand now. They were still rivals and often argued, they probably always would, but there was something far deeper between them. This only seemed to complicate matters though, making fights all the more hurtful.

"Bloody idiot." Spike seethed as he stormed down the halls of Wolfram and Hart. "I'm not putting up with it anymore." His angry mutterings where interrupted when he turned a corner and walked straight into a rather unexpected old enemy- Dr Mordred. "What the hell?" Spike gasped, steadying himself again.

"Yes, I'd rather thought that would be your reaction," the doctor smiled. "How have you been Spike?"

"A lot bloody better now that I'm not three feet tall." Spike said. "Why don't I think it's a coincidence that I've bumped into you?"

"Because it's not," the doctor sighed. "There's a prophecy Spike, there always is isn't there," Dr Mordred laughed. Spike stared blankly at him, so the doctor continued, "A rather powerful and imposing demon God is going to rise soon, and he would like you out of the way."

"Me?" Spike asked, "Why me?"

"The prophecy, Spike," Dr Mordred replied tersely, "Try to keep up. So, I've been sent to eradicate you."

"What?" Spike looked horrified as the doctor pulled out an all too familiar syringe. "No! Oh God no! Not again!"

"Don't worry Spike," Dr Mordred said calmly, "I'm not going to make you a child again. I'm going to reverse your age completely. Till you're nothing at all."

"That is not a calming thought!" Spike cried. He tried to make an escape back up the corridor, but Dr Mordred, showing exceptional speed and agility for an old demon, pounced. He pinned Spike to the ground, stabbing the needle into his neck before the vampire could throw the weaker man off. The sedative effect of the magical demon's blood took effect almost immediately. Spike felt the syringe injecting the fatal dose of age reversing blood into his system, but was unable to do anything to stop it. "Bloody bastard," he cried weakly as his eyes became unfocused. "Damnit… Angel… help."

* * *

400 meters away, Angel heard Spike's plea. Weather it was vampiric hearing or magical intervention he didn't know, but he heard Spike cry out none the less. He dashed towards the direction he thought the voice had come from. He didn't know what was wrong, or why Spike was in danger, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that Spike needed help- damn anything or anyone who stood in his way. 

He rounded a corner to find his grandchilde. Spike was lying limp on the floor, his eyes rolled backward under heavily dropping lids, his arms outstretched the palms and fingers limp. Crouched over him was an old man in a white Doctor's coat- Angel recognised him as Dr Mordred. The same doctor who had caused so much trouble six months ago, by reverting Spike to childhood. In the doctor's hand was a syringe, half full of liquid. The syringe was slowly becoming less and less full as the doctor pumped the potion into Spike's neck.

Angel growled. The doctor looked up. He looked surprised to find the older vampire looming above him. He was about to speak when Angel rushed at him- nocking him to the ground. Vampire and doctor hit the carpet with a heavy thud. The syringe flew out of the doctor's hand and smashed against the wall, the poison inside spilling all over the plaster and dribbling down to the carpet. Angel grabbed Dr Mordred by the neck and pinned him down. "What the hell have you done?"

The doctor struggled to reply with the vampire's vice-like grip crushing his wind-pipe. "I've done," Dr Mordred coughed, "what was asked." Angel growled and squeezed harder. "I've reversed him." The doctor clarified.

"How old will he be?" Angel asked. The doctor's eyes began to roll back in his head as he lost consciousness. Angel heaved his head off the floor slightly and slammed him back down, "How old!" but, now completely unconscious, Dr Mordred didn't reply.


	2. Things Catch Fire

**Chapter 2  
Things Catch Fire**

A/N: Yay! Chapter two! Sorry it's taken so long folks… I really have no time on my hands these days!

There's a bit more of an exploration of the growing Tilly, Fred and Wes dynamic in this chapter- and some Fred/Wes fluff (for those of you who, like me, love seeing those two happy together).

You'll also see Gunn and Lorne in this chapter. I hope to include them both in this fic (much more so than I did in my last fic) though they're not my forte characters, so any comments on them would be great.

I got some really great reviews for last chapter! I'm incredibly proud and happy, so thank you all so much. I'm sorry I didn't get to reply to all of you. School work is majorly getting in the way; I will endeavour to reply to all my reviews for this chapter

* * *

It happened suddenly. After almost two hours unconscious in the hospital, quite unexpectedly, Spike began to change.

Angel had carried Spike's body down to the hospital. The doctors laid him out in bed and rushed to take blood samples and run tests. Two hours later they had no answers. No one knew what was happening to Spike; no one knew when he would wake up. Angel silently wondered if he would wake up at all. Dr Mordred was a powerful demon, with many talents- the least of which was the ability to reverse age. Exactly what he had done to Spike, Angel didn't know.

He sat waiting silently by Spike's bed. In the very same chair he had sat in the first time Spike had encountered Dr Mordred. Spike didn't move, he didn't breathe, he was still as the dead.

"I know you've been through this before," A doctor had said to Angel, "So you'll have a better idea of what's going on. Spike's body has gone into a rested state, while it prepares to change. We don't know how much his body is going to change, so we don't know how long he'll be comatose." The Doctor looked hard at Angel, emphasising the seriousness of his words, "The procedure done on Spike…. It might be more serious then last time. He might be reversed completely, into non existence." The doctor need not have glared so hard, Angel knew well how serious this was.

Angel watched as the minutes fell away, but Spike stayed motionless.

Then, very suddenly, he began to change. As Angel watched, Spike's limbs went ridged; his eyelids snapped open- the whites visible as his eyes rolled back in his head. His mouth opened, emitting a short gasping cough. He began to shake, and as he did, he began to shrink. His arms and legs got thinner, his face younger, his skin seemed to ripple as the cells rearranged themselves. Then, suddenly as it started, it stopped. Spike fell still.

Angel stared at the again unconscious Spike. He wasn't the same man he had been moments before. He was younger, thinner, frailer looking. Angel judged he was about 15 years old, just on the cusp of mid teens.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Spike was ok. He was younger, he was different, but he was still here. Angel let himself relax for a moment, before the reality of Spike's condition set in. But all too soon, the relief went away, and was replaced by dread.

A teenager. The most turbulent troublesome age imaginable. Angry, rebellious, into rock music. Angel couldn't think of a more unstable or irresponsible age. Spike as an adult was bad enough, as a teenager, he would be insufferable. If Dr Mordred had intended to create trouble for Angel he had certainly succeeded. A terrible fear and dread began to press down on Angel's shoulders, as the enormity of Spike's new state fully hit him. He could feel a brood coming on.

Spike would probably sleep for a few more hours at least, so Angel decided to settle in and worry about this new problem. He was just furrowing his brow- when Spike moved. The teenage vampire snored like a wild pig and flopped over onto his front, where he slept peacefully again.

Angel couldn't help it. He smiled.

* * *

Miles away from the hospital wing of Wolfram and Hart, Winifred Burkle and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce were fast asleep.

Fred woke up with a start, to find herself being pleasantly crushed by Wes' arm. The scruffy ex-watcher was sleeping soundly, a possessive arm draped over the slender woman beside him. Fred snuggled closer into him as she gathered her thoughts.

She remembered bringing Tilly home for dinner, they had had tacos until Tilly and Fred were too full to think or move. The girls had curled up on the couch to watch "The Simpsons" re-runs on Fox (Fred was still finding episodes she has missed while stuck in Pylea) while Wesley had done the washing up. After that Fred couldn't remember anymore. She must have fallen asleep on the couch, and Wesley had carried her to bed. What had he done with Tilly, Fred wondered. Had he taken her back to Containment? Her heart did a little flip. Surely he wouldn't have taken her home so late…The thought of Tilly back in containment, so far away, made her uneasy somehow.

Her thoughts where interrupted by the low chirping of a telephone. Fred realised that was probably the sound that had disturbed her sleep.

She gently pulled Wesley's arm off her and slipped out of bed. She hurriedly shuffled out of the bedroom towards the lounge room, as the phone rang again. Turning on the light, she saw a little figure curled up asleep on the couch. It was Tilly. Wesley had given her a pillow and a blanket, obviously after she and Fred both fell asleep on the couch. Fred smiled.

The phone rang again, and Tilly rolled over on the couch. Fred hurried to pick up the receiver before Tilly and Wesley woke up. "Hello," she whispered.

"Fred, it's Angel," Angel said.

"Angel?" Fred checked her watch, "It's 1am, what's up?"

"Oh, yeah sorry." Angel's voice was strained and unusually unsure. "I should have called earlier, or…later. I should have called, but I didn't want to leave him. He seems ok now, he's sleeping."

Fred tried in vain to make sense of the vampire's words, "Leave who? What's wrong? You're not making a heck of a lot of sense." Fred caught sight of a movement near the bedroom door as Wesley sleepily emerged. "Hold on," she said to Angel. She motioned for Wesley to come over, saying "It's Angel, something's happened. Something bad." Wes hurried over and put his ear next to Fred's so they could both hear what Angel was saying. "Ok, Angel." Fred said.

"It's Spike," Angel explained, "He's… we had a fight, and he stormed off. He was in trouble, by the time I got to him, it was too late."

"Too late for what?" Fred asked.

"To stop him." Angel said, "Dr Mordred. He got Spike again."

Fred gasped. "What?" She could feel her legs giving way underneath her as the enormity of this new trouble pressed down on her. She steadied herself on the coffee table. "H-how old is he?" she croaked.

"15 maybe, 16?" Angel guessed, "Older than… than before."

A noise from the couch distracted Fred and Wes; a soft mewing and rustling of covers, as Tilly woke up. She rubbed her eyes. "Mommy?" She asked sleepily.

Fred shakily handed the phone to Wesley and knelt down beside Tilly. "Tilly, honey, it's Aunty Fred."

"Oh," Tilly said sleepily, "what happening?"

"You fell asleep on the couch," Fred explained. She patted Tilly's hair soothingly as she spoke, "The phone call woke you up. You can go back to sleep."

Tilly smiled sleepily and rested her head back against the pillows. "Ok, if you say so." Fred smiled. Despite the rising panic in her chest, Tilly's face effortlessly warmed her heart. She leant over and kissed Tilly's forehead.

Wesley covered the mouth piece of the phone and turned to Fred, "You should go." He said. "I'll take care of Tilly, I'll take her home in the morning."

Fred stood up and kissed him, "Thank you." She said. "It's just, I wanna see if he's ok, or if there's anything I can do to help, and see… see him, you know."

"I know," Wesley said. "That's why I'm telling you to go. Spike and Angel need you."

Fred ran to the hurried to the kitchen counter and grabbed her keys. "I'll call when I know more," she said, hurrying back to give Wesley a kiss goodbye. She looked down at the rumpled clothes she fell asleep in, "is it ok to go in these clothes?" she asked. Wesley gave her a blank stare, "right, not important." She turned around to dash out the door.

Wesley caught her hand and pulled her back, "It's ok. Spike is going to be alright." He put his arms around her.

"I know," she said, hugging him back "I just hope Angel will be."

* * *

Fred ran into Gunn outside the door to Spike's room in the hospital wing.

"Wes called me," he said. "I thought I should come down."

Fred hugged him. "I'm glad you're here." She let him go, her worried face returning. "What should we do?"

"Take a deep breath and count to 'calm down', for a start, sweet-pea," Lorne said, coming up from behind Fred and Gunn. "You're aura is screaming inner turmoil, and it's giving me a headache."

Fred relaxed into a laugh, "Sorry, I'll try and keep my inner turmoil quiet."

Her laugh broke the tension a bit, and Gunn and Lorne smiled too, "Atta girl," Lorne said.

"Should we go in?" Gunn asked.

The three friends looked at the grey hospital door. Behind that door was a monster scarier than any they had ever faced before- a vampiric adolescent. Things were going to be strange, and confusing, and quite possibly painful. Spike's last regression had shaken things up for them- and they were afraid to go through it again. Having a child to care for, playing uncles and aunts to a little vampire, had affected them all. They where afraid to see Spike, see how he had changed, and how he would change them this time."I think we probably should," Fred said.

Fred, Gunn and Lorne stayed staring at the door. They looked nervously at each other, each hoping they wouldn't have to be the one to turn the door handle. "Yeah, ok," Gunn said uncertainly. He took a deep breath in, and opened the door.

He was greeted with absolute silence. Not a sound filled the room, not even the breathing of the two people inside it. Angel was seated in the chair beside the bed. He was looking intently at a young blond boy, still sleeping peacefully. It took a moment to register that the boy in the bed was Spike, he was so much younger and thinner. He looked fragile and innocent somehow, so unlike the boisterous badass vampire they were used to.

"Fred, Gunn, Lorne," Angel greeted them, looking up.

"Hey Angel," Gunn said.

Fred took a few sheepish steps towards Spike, "Is that him?" she asked.

"Yeah," Angel breathed. "He's been-" he paused, unsure of how to phrase Spike's condition "-this way- for the last forty minutes. He hasn't woken up yet. He's moved a few times, just turned over in his sleep."

"Whoa, this is weird," Gunn said.

"You can say that again," Lorne said, "I'm getting a distinctly sweet and innocent vibe, are you sure this is Spike?"

Angel sighed, "Pretty sure."

Fred walked to the opposite side of the bed from Angel. "Spike," she whispered, with a frightened tremor in her voice.

Spike rolled over in bed, mumbling a groan into his pillow. "What?" he asked.

All breaths in the room where caught, even Angel's. Spike was awake.

Still face down and curled up sleepily in bed, Spike asked again "What?" He rolled over and rubbed his eyes, "I'm bloody well awake now, so what do y- whoa," he opened his eyes, "Where the bloody hell am I?"

"In the hospital ward of Wolfram and Hart." Angel replied.

"O…k" Spike said.

"I'm Angel." Angel said.

"I know- kinda." Spike said, "my brains a little fuzzy at the moment."

"How do you feel?" Angel asked.

"Kinda…. scared," Spike decided, "and like I'm wearing a girl's nighty."

Angel sighed, "It's the hospital issue gown, Spike."

Spike raised an eyebrow suspiciously, "You didn't undress me did you?"

"No!" Angel said.

Spike turned around, "Oh hey, Aunty Fred." He smiled, "was it your lovely voice that woke me up?"

Fred beamed back, "Yes- I mean, no! I mean- I didn't mean to wake you. Sorry."

"S'all right." he said, "was it you that undressed me?" He asked cheekily.

Gunn intervened before Fred could stammer out a denial, "I don't really think you should be implying things like that, Junior."

Spike glared, "I don't really think that's any of your business- anymore."

"Spike!" Angel growled.

"What, Angie?" He snapped back, "I wasn't talking to you."

"Guys, guys," Fred pleaded, "Don't fight about it, please."

Spike growled, but dropped the subject. "Well, what happened to me anyway?"

"You where attacked." Angel explained, calming down, "By Dr Mordred. He injected you with something, to make you younger."

Spike furrowed his brow, "No, he was trying to kill me." He said. The others looked shocked, "I don't remember it all, it's kinda hazy, but he said he was going to 'reverse me completely'. That means he was trying to kill me doesn't it."

"Sounds like it." Gunn said darkly.

"But why?" Lorne asked. "I mean, I'm sure you get a lot of attempted murders in your line of work, but was there a specific reason or just general homicidal tendencies."

"A prophecy," Spike said. "Or something like that. He said there was some prophecy, and so he had to kill me."

"What prophecy?" Angel asked.

Spike glared at the older vampire, "I said it was fuzzy. Give a bloody man some credit, I was just almost killed. So what happens now?" He asked, "Do we track down the bad guy and beat him up?"

Angel shifted nervously in his chair, "I um… already did that. When you were attacked, I found him on top of you. He's still out."

Fred gasped, "Wh-"

Angel shook his head. "Later." He said.

Spike looked put out that he didn't get to beat anyone up. "Well, can I go then?" He sighed.

"The doctors said you're fine, just a little younger then before," Angel began.

"Great!" Spike said, jumping out of bed, "Can someone give me my pants?" He saw the required clothing folded at the end of the bed, "ah, great." He pulled them on under his hospital gown and began to buckle them up. "Well, be seeing you." he said.

"Where do you think you're going?" Angel asked.

Spike pulled off his hospital gown and threw it at Angel. "Home, to my place. I wanna watch some TV. You said I wasn't sick."

Fred furrowed her brow saying quietly, "Home? Without a shirt… or underpants?"

Angel grabbed Spike's arm. "Oh no you don't! You're not going anywhere."

Spike pulled his arm free of Angel's hold, "Yeah I am- I just said I was going home."

"You're coming home with me." Angel said firmly.

"Yeah right, sicko," Spike said, "I don't want to play happy families again."

"You don't have a choice," Angel said, "You're too young to live on your own. I'm your legal guardian."

"Nuh-uh," Spike argued, "I'm one hundred and twenty years old. I don't need a guardian."

"Spike!" Angel yelled.

"Whoa," Lorne said, stumbling back, "talk about powerful vibes. Maybe we should all calm down and talk about this over a sea breeze- and a virgin mary for the little one."

"I'm not little!" Spike snapped, "I can take care of myself- I don't want your help, I don't want your opinion, and I don't want your kiddie cocktails. Bugger off, the lot of you!"

"Spike," Fred pleaded, "Don't run away."

"I'm not running away, Aun'y Fred," He said, in a falsely calm tone "I'm going back to my place, to have a drink and watch some TV- I don't need my stand-in-mummy to make me a bottle." He walked out the door, calling over his shoulder, "Later."

Angel was livid, "Spike!" He yelled, "Spike, come back here!" Spike didn't hear, or didn't care. The door snapped shut behind him.

"Angel, don't yell like that," Gunn advised, "I was a rebel kid once- a lot more recently then you were- trust me, orders and authority, not what Spike wants."

"I don't care what he wants!" Angel said. "I'm the adult, I make the rules."

"That's what I'm saying," Gunn said, "You're not going to win him over with that attitude."

"Maybe we should give him some space," Fred said.

"Or some heavy metal music," Lorne said, "that boy is a ticking time bomb of teen angst."

Angel flopped down into the chair, "What if he gets hurt."

"He is a vampire," Gunn said, "He can take care of himself."

"No he can't," Angel said, "He's a kid."

"He's a teenager," Gunn corrected, "And the last thing he wants to hear is that he can't hold his own."

Angel sighed. "Alright, alright, I see your point." He glared darkly at the floor, "This is not how I wanted this to go. I don't want him to be on his own, I want to make sure he's ok."

"He's almost an adult," Lorne said, "he was an adult a few hours ago. It's not six year old Spike again Angel, it's sixteen year old Spike. You can't molly-coddle him."

Angel continued to glare darkly at the floor. "Give him a while to cool down Angel." Gunn said.

"We can go check on him at dusk tomorrow," Fred said.

Angel suddenly looked up, "Do you think he knows not to go out in the daylight?" he asked.

"Sure," Fred said, "He's a sensible boy." Her companions looked uncertain, "ok, so he's not… but he's not reckless… or, he is a little."

Gunn, Lorne and Angel looked dubious. "Well," Gunn ventured, "if he goes out in the sunlight, and starts to burn, he'll go back inside. It's learning from experience."

"Great," Angel sighed, "Just great."

* * *

It took Spike almost twenty minutes to find his way back to his apartment, even thought it was barely minutes from Wolfram and Hart. His memories were jumbled and fuzzy. He felt like parts of his mind where editing them selves out, and he had an angry feeling the first to go were the sexy bits. "Bloody self censoring mind." He grumbled.

He had eventually remembered where he lived, though this had been especially hard as he remembered having lived on several continents. It was hard to discern which "home" in his memories his current home was; he was almost surprised to find the high rise apartment in L.A. city proper was his "home" now.

When he reached his apartment, he realised he'd left his duster in the hospital, with his shirt. He growled. His keys were in the pocket.

It took him a few minutes of pointlessly shaking the doorknob, before Spike remembered he was a vampire. His foggy memory the way it was, he wasn't quite sure what it meant to be a vampire. There where definitely some vampire things he didn't want to think about right now - like killing, and drinking blood. What he did remember about being a vampire was that he was super strong. Strong enough to kick down a door.

The door flew across the apartment at the impact of Spike's super strength foot. Spike followed the door inside, and surveyed his apparent. It was plain and grey. The furniture was standard issue, thin and modern. Spike noticed with approval, the large flat screen TV in the lounge room. That at least was a good thing.

It wasn't a very nice place, Spike decided. It was too plain and sterile- where was the class, where was the coolness? "Tell me I have a CD player," He begged no one in particular, "give me that at least."

There was a CD player, Spike saw with relief, on the middle shelf of the bookcase. Spike rushed over to check out his CD's. He flipped through a couple, looking disgusted with his taste. He paused, and held up 'The Greatest Hits of Queen'. It wasn't what he wanted, but at leas it was rock. He slid the CD into the player, and cranked the volume up to full blast. The sound system was fantastic, Spike noticed approvingly; the heavy first beats of "We Will Rock You" shook the walls.

Spike stamped along with the rhythm, on his way to the fridge. He could smell something good in the kitchen. He found the fridge very well stoked, considering a vampire's normal feeding habits. There was salsa, and left over chicken wings, and other solid food type things. Several bottles of dark red liquid caught his attention, and he pulled one out. Uncorking it, he took a sniff. It smelt like blood.

Spike recoiled. The smell was enticing, and that frightened him a little. He knew there was something kinda sick about drinking blood. But he wanted it.

Looking back into the fridge, Spike saw, on the self below the blood, a large collection of beer bottles. "Beer!" He cried in glee. "Oh God yes beer." Taking a beer in one hand, and the blood in the other, Spike found himself a glass and began to pour. The two liquids mixed into a strange dark red bubbly mess.

Spike took a tentative sip. It was wonderful.

He traipsed back to the lounge room, singing alone loudly with the music, "We will, we will, rock you!" He set his glass of blood-beer down on a table, and jumped on the couch, air guitaring the solo.

As he jumped off the couch, he spied something on the bookshelf above the CD player. It was a packet of cigarettes. Spike's eyes lit up, "Hell yes!" He cried. With vampire swiftness, he rushed at the cigarettes and pulled one out. There was no lighter on the bookshelf, so Spike sauntered back into the kitchen, still singing to himself. He found a lighter in the drawer, and lit up. It was heavenly.

Cigarette in one hand, blood-beer in the other, Spike danced angrily around his room, rocking out to the classic Queen ballad. He stamped unceremoniously on the furniture, and kicked at the shelves, delighting in the thud as books and possessions fell to the floor. In a black cabinet near the door, Spike found several bottles of whiskey, rum and gin. He pulled them all out, and added a dash or two to his drink. It tasted horrible, but very alcoholic.

He laughed groggily as the alcohol began to take affect. "Can't take care of myself?" He said, "look at me go. I'm taking good… good care of Spike." He fell backwards onto the couch, knocking over a bottle of rum, which spilt all over the floor. "whoops," He giggled "not taking good care of the rum." His cigarette was almost burn down to the orange filter, so he pulled out another one, flicking the butt at the floor.

As luck would have it, the still smouldering cigarette flew straight onto the carpet, where the rum had already spilt. In seconds the puddle of liquor caught fire. The fire spread across the carpet, to the near by bookshelf, licking dangerously at the books. Spike didn't notice the fire at first, he was too busy drinking and smoking on the couch. The song had changed, and as the fire began to burn the few books on the bottom shelf, he sang loudly, "We are the champions, my friends." The fire took hold of the first shelf, igniting the books, "and we'll keep on fighting,- till the end."

From the corner of his eye, Spike saw the flames, and jumped up in panic. "Holy shit." He swore. His previous drunken state quickly disappeared in the face of this new danger. The house was on fire. He looked around for something to put it out with. Water. The Kitchen.

It took the agile young vampire just two bounds to reach the sink. He grabbed a nearby bowl, and threw it under the tap. Even with the tap on full blast, it took a few seconds for the bowl to fill. Spike hoped from foot to foot, whispering "Hurry up, hurry up!" when it was nearly full, Spike wrenched it away, sloshing water down his front. He ran back to the fire and threw the water on it. A small area of the fire, still on the carpet, fizzled and went out. The whole book case was still alight, and it was starting to spread to the other furnature.

Spike saw how pointless his effort had been. He couldn't possibly put the fire out with water. He thought about getting a blanket, but the fire was spreading too quickly. "Bloody hell," He cried angrily, "you'd think a vampire's house would be a little less flammable!" There was no hope of putting the fire out now. He would have to call someone. He grabbed the phone, trying to remember the emergency number. "999 is England," he mumbled, "113 is Italy… God damn it, what's the bloody number?" he looked at the phone, and found the obvious answer. On speed dial, the first number was Angel's.

Spike growled. He couldn't call Angel- that would be like admitting defeat. If Angel knew Spike had set the house on fire, he would definitely not let Spike look after himself. "I will not call Angel!" Spike decided. There was a loud bang, as the flames found their way inside one of the open whiskey bottles, setting the liquor ablaze and shattering the bottle. Spike pressed the speed dial button for Angel.

Angel picked up after just one ring. "Spike?" he asked.

"Hey Angel," Spike said calmly.

"Where are you!" Angel barked.

"At home," Spike assured him, "My apartment. Look, I called because I've got a bit of a problem. The house in on fire."

There was two seconds of stunned silence before Angel exploded. "It's what!" he yelled.

"Love to stay and chat," Spike interrupted, "but I have to get out before I start to burn." He hung up on Angel, and ran for the door.

* * *

"Tell me what happened." Angel said. He and Spike where sitting in the hospital for the second time that day. Spike had been checked over by the nurses for any injuries, but he'd been given a clean bill of health. Barely a minute after Spike had called Angel, an emergency crew from Wolfram and Hart had arrived at the fire. They had put out the blaze, and saved as much as possible. Then, on Angel's orders, they took Spike back to the hospital, where Angel was waiting.

"I don't know what happened," Spike said grumpily, "I was just having a drink and a smoke, listening to some Queen-"

"You were doing what!" Angel roared.

"Listening to Queen," Spike said cheekily.

"Don't play games with me, Spike." Angel said. "Drinking? Smoking? Don't you know how bad that is?"

Spike scoffed, "I'm already dead, Angie-pants, it can't make me deader."

"You could have been hurt in that fire." Angel said, "Vampire's don't kill easily, but fire would dust you, Spike. How could you have been so stupid?"

"Look, I'm sorry," Spike said, "But it won't happen again."

"I know it won't," Angel said, "Because you're coming to live with me." Spike began to protest, but Angel cut him off. "No Spike, I don't want to hear it. You had your chance, and you screwed it up." He threw Spike's shirt and duster at him, "get dressed. We're going home."


	3. Different People

**Chapter 3**

**Different People**

A/N: As usual, sorry for the lateness… I'll not make excuses, you've heard them all before. Thank you ever so much for your patience! You're wonderful people, all of you!

okies, this chapter- few! It gave me some trouble for a while there! I'm hoping next chapter will be a bit easier to write, I think I'm through the rough spots.

I'm going to be introducing a few OCs in the next few chapters, just to get the plot moving… One of my new OC's you'll meet this chapter is Natasha. Her name is pronounced "nah-taah-sha" not "nat-A-sha" (do you get me? If not, don't worry )

I'm going to be mocking teenagers a bit from now on in, so if something seems a bit melodramatic, chances are I'm hamming it up on purpose.

And lastly, as always I would adore reviews, especially ones with a bit of constructive criticisms, to help me make the subsequent chapters more enjoyable for all you wonderful readers.

Edit: Whoops! I forgot vampire's don't have reflections... thanks for catching that you guys. Inmydefence, listen to the commentary for "waiting in the wings" Joss forgot too...Fixed now!

* * *

Spike was awoken in the early hours of the night by a horrible noise. The incessant chirping of the phone. "Bloody hell!" He moaned, "turn it off, I'm trying to sleep." The phone continued to ring, the noise resounding through the downy pillow Spike had pulled over his head. He groaned in exaggerated agony as the ringing continued. From his position on the couch in Angel's lounge room, Spike's vampiric hearing picked up the phone's yowling with painful clarity. The phone was just meters away on the coffee table. 

Spike groaned, and grabbed blindly in the direction of those noise. He found the receiver and picked it up, stopping the noise. He tossed it to the floor, the plastic casing making an odd crunching noise. Spike sighed in relief. Silence at last. He enjoyed a few minutes of glorious calm, settling back into his pillow.

A strange crackling broke the renewed peace. The receiver, still off the hook and lying on the floor, was making noise. The crackling grew louder. Soon a voice could be heard. "Spike," the voice called "Spike!" it was Angel. "Pick up the phone Spike."

The young vampire sighed, and picked up the receiver, "What?" he asked tersely.

"It's late, Spike," Angel said, "I expected you up hours ago."

Spike looked over at the kitchen clock, "It's 6pm," he cried, "the night's barely started."

"I've been up since 10 this morning," Angel said.

"Why?" Spike asked, "So you could fry in the glow of the sunrise?"

"I had a meeting." Angel said. "We work with humans Spike, they don't keep late hours. And the sun rises at 5:30."

Spike made an annoyed noise. "What do you want me for anyway?"

"Wesley is coming to my office in half an hour," Angel explained, "to review your condition. I'd like you to be there."

"Aww why?" Spike groaned, "Can't Prince-Poncy-Pants just get one of his wizard books and magic me back to my big old self?"

"We don't know yet," Angel said, "That's why I need you to come up to the office. We don't have many leads on what happened to you, and with Dr Mordred still in the hospital…"

"and who's fault is that?" asked Spike, "Thanks a lot for bludgeoning our only lead into unconsciousness."

"I didn't have time to think of things like that, Spike," Angel snapped, "He was trying to kill you. All I could think was of protecting you, not protecting our leads. I just wanted to stop him. You were the only thing I was concentrating on."

Spike felt an uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach. "Um yeah, thanks for that." He said.

Angel sighed, "It was nothing." An awkward silence followed, as each vampire tried to ignore their conflicting emotions.

"So uh," Spike began again, uncertainly, "when did you want me to come over?"

"6:30," Angel said, "there's a bunch of clothes in a bag by the door, and I left you something to eat on the kitchen counter."

"Ok, I'll be there soonish," Spike said, and disconnected.

He pulled himself off the couch, rearranging his boxers as he got his bearings. He was back in Angel's apartment, a place he hadn't visited much in the last three months. It felt good to be back in a way, like coming home. But it was also unnerving.

He ran a hand though his hair on his way to the kitchen, separating the mussy platinum locks. There was a box of wheaties on the kitchen counter, with a note: "Blood is in the fridge." Spike was mildly surprised to find that Angel remembered how he liked his breakfast. He grabbed the blood roughly, suppressing a smile.

* * *

Angel sighed, setting down the receiver. Unbeknownst to his young vampire ward, that was the sixth time Angel had picked up the phone to call Spike. It was ironic really- a 240 something year old, afraid to call a teenager. But Angel was afraid. He was afraid of Spike, and afraid of having to look after him again. He was afraid of what would happen between them. Their relation ship was strained at best, Angel desperately didn't want things to snap. It was impossible to say what he felt for Spike, but this new problem could only complicate matters. 

Pushing his brooding to the back of his mind, Angel picked up the phone, and dialled Wesley's number. "Wes, It's me." Angel said, when the ex watcher answered.

"Ah, Angel," Wesley said.

"How's the prophecy going?" asked the vampire.

"I'm looking for a nameless prophecy, from no particular era or prophet, in God knows what language," Wesley replied tersely, "but apart from that, it's going well."

"I know you don't have much to go on," Angel apologised, "Spike said that Dr Mordred wanted to kill him because of a prophecy, so he probably wants to stop Spike from doing something good… perhaps Spike has some role in an upcoming apocalypse? I'm sure it's a bit part, compared to my role obviously." Angel added.

"That doesn't really narrow things down," Wesley's said from the other end of the line, "There are several prophesies about you that we know of already, and many more we probably don't know of. I've asked for a general search for prophecies about any 'ensouled Vampires'. Prophesies are too vague for actual names, so there's not much point trying 'William the Bloody' let alone 'Spike'."

Angel leant back in his chair. "Ok, I see your point. It's just we need this information as soon as possible. I want Spike back to normal- fast."

"Angel," Wesley began carefully, "I know this is… difficult for you."

"Difficult isn't the word," Angel sighed. "I… I don't want to look at him. I don't want to see him like this. When he's an adult, he's the annoying Spike I can't stand, but when he's young… he's just a kid, he's my son." 'Son'. Connor. Angel closed his eyes, trying to block the memories.

"This is going to be hard for all of us." Wesley continued, comfort not the watchers strongpoint, "but Spike needs you now, and you must keep his best interests in mind."

Angel felt a sharp stab of rage as Wesley spoke. This was the man who had stolen his son. Connor had lived in a hell dimension all his life thanks to Wes. He quickly recovered though. He had forgiven Wes- he had to- that was in the past. No one even remembered it. Not even Connor. "I know," Angel said, "it's going to be an adjustment." He sighed, "can you come up to the office. Soonish?"

"I thought you wanted this prophecy," Wesley said.

"I… I do." Angel said, "It's just… I thought maybe you could take a look at Spike… I called him and asked him to come over at 6:30…" Angel wasn't going to admit to Wesley that he wanted an excuse to see Spike. It was embarrassing enough, he wasn't going to tell anyone else. But it was the only way Angel could think of to get Spike to come, and Angel needed to see him, and see he was safe.

There was a pause, before Wesley replied "I haven't really seen the full extent of his condition, and I would like Fred to run some tests, just in case she can find anything."

Angel sighed; thankful Wes had sensed Angel's anxiety and given the vampire the excuse he was hoping for. "Great, then I'll see you at six thirty."

* * *

For a 240 year old vampire, Spike thought to himself, Angel didn't have bad taste. The clothes Spike had found beside the door where pretty stylish, and clearly the latest L.A. fashion. They were entirely too nice for Angel to have chosen, after all he only ever wore black. He probably got Harmony to pick them out. She was young and usually well dressed. Spike's fuzzy memories pulled up images of pink and gold drapes and a multitude of sparkling unicorns that he seemed to remember Harmony choosing some time when they had lived together… maybe she didn't have the greatest taste. 

His old black jeans still fit him well, so Spike threw them on with a new red t-shirt, emblazoned with a gothic punk upside-down pentacle in black cotton. He pulled on his boots and his duster. The perfect badass rebel, he thought. He decided he didn't need a shower, but his hair could do with something. There was plenty of hair gel in the bathroom, so Spike tasselled up his blond curls into punkishly awesome points. "What are you lookin' at?" He asked no one in particular, "huh kid? I'm a vampire, I am, and a strong one at that. So you better just keep outta my way."

As he stomped alone the corridor towards Angel's office, Spike swaggered a little, perpetuating his bad ass style. Or so he thought. Any observers would have thought he looked rather stupid. If anyone had been watching. But the high grey walkways of the evil Law firm were silent, lawyers and demons hard at work somewhere else in the building. Spike thought it was a rather boring place to live. He vaguely remembered being here as a little kid, three months ago. It had been boring as hell then.

"Nice coat"

Spike turned, to discover the apparently deserted corridor wasn't so deserted. Leaning against the wall beside him was a girl. She looked about his age, definitely mid teens. Her black hair fell in waves around her shoulders, just touching a fashionably collared shirt. Spike noticed with interest the tiny pleated skirt she was wearing and the knee high black boots. This girl was hot.

"Thanks," Spike said. He slipped into his 'suave' mode, reserved for wooing hot girls. "I haven't seen you around here before." He said.

She smiled a coy smile, "You obviously haven't been looking hard enough. I'm Natasha." She drew out the "a" in the middle.

"Spike," he said.

"That's an interesting name," she said, "why did your mother call you that?"

"She didn't," Spike said, "but that was a long time ago, and I got tired of my old name."

"Mothers are troublesome like that. Natasha's not my real name." Natasha said.

"What is?" Spike asked.

"Nu-uh," She chided, "you tell me yours and I might tell you mine."

"A name's a powerful thing," Spike said, "Maybe I don't trust you with mine."

"Maybe that's wise," Natasha said. She pushed herself gently away from the wall and walked slowly towards Spike. "I'm not to be trusted."

"Don't worry pet," Spike purred, "I don't trust easily."

Natasha pulled out a packet of cigarettes, taking one between her lips and fishing in a pocket for a lighter, "You're English," she said.

"I was once," Spike admitted, "I've been everything."

Natasha took a long breath in, before exhaling a plume of smoke. She held out the cigarette to Spike.

"Those things'll kill you," He said, taking the offered narcotic.

"Same to you," She replied.

"I don't have to worry about that any more," Spike said, passing it back, "I'm already dead."

Natasha laughed, "so says every angsty emo teen."

"Yeah, but most of them haven't seen their 100th birthday come and go." Spike reasoned, "I'm different."

"So I'm noticing."

"Do you want to know my secret?" Spike asked. He didn't wait Natasha for to consent, before he continued, "I'm a vampire."

Natasha slunk forward, pressing herself up against Spike. He could smell the sweet tang of human blood on her, but at the same time, he noticed she was cold. She leant in close to his neck, to whisper in his ear, "You're not the only one."

A door beside Natasha opened, shocking both the adolescents. Spike jumped backwards. Natasha regained her composure, just as a young blond girl appeared.

"We better go Taa," The girl said, "it's nearly half past six, I'm feeling kinda itchy. I don't wanna be out much longer."

"You're the one holding us up," Natasha said. She turned back to Spike and gave him a wink, "I'll see you later Spike." The girls headed back down the corridor Spike had come through.

Spike watched them go, before collapsing against the wall. "Wow," he breathed. "She was hot."

* * *

It took Spike longer then he expected to get to Angel's office. After his encounter with Natasha, he found it hard to think straight, or walk fast, so focused was his mind on anything but remembering the delicious way she smelt. He arrived twenty minutes late, to find Angel, Wesley and Fred, sitting around Angel's office, discussing things in dark tones. 

"You can all stop muttering about me," Spike said, "Vampire hearing, I know what you've been saying." The three adults turned to regard the young vampire.

Wesley, seeing the recently young vampire for the first time since Spike had changed, caught his breath. "I had no idea…" he began.

"I know," Angel muttered.

The ex-watcher took a moment to soak in his acquaintances new appearance. The thin limbs, not yet filled out with a man's muscle; the boyish face; the spiked hair and of course, the young punk rock clothes. Spike had changed. In some ways, not that much, but it was still startling to see a boy where there had been a man.

"Right," The ex-watcher said regaining his cool, "well, Spike, we're here to see what's happened to you."

"I'm not a baby Wes," Spike said, "so don't talk to me like one. Hurry up and run your tests so I can go home, I was sleeping."

"Sit down Spike," Angel said, "and don't be rude."

Spike sound down with a grumble.

Fred hoped up hurriedly from her seat, giving Spike a shy smile. "I'm going to take a blood sample," She said, pulling out a syringe, "Is that alright? Then you can go."

"'S fine pet, but it won't be my blood you're getting. I think you'll get a nice porky sample of the pint I had for breakfast." Before he could protest, Fred had grabbed Spike's wrist and jabbed her syringe into the blue vein. "Ouch," He grunted.

"Sorry," Fred apologised. A thick red liquid swirled into the syringe as Fred began to extract Spike's blood. "This blood has already been ingested and converted by your body," She explained, "It's probably not what you had for breakfast at all, but more like what you had yesterday."  
Spike blanched remembering his little blood-beer snack yesterday, and wondering if vampire's could have a blood-alcohol level, "uh, what are you going to do with it…?"

"I'll compare the DNA strands, look at the ageing of the cells…" She pulled the needle out and dabbed the small hole on Spike's wrist with a cotton wool ball. "Because this blood has already been refined by your body, there's the Demon's DNA in it too. So I can isolate the paternal strand from the recessive humans strands, compare it to the normal rate of development in a demon/human hybrid sample…" Fred paused, noticing Angel, Spike and even Wesley were all giving her blank stares… "Um… I'll run some tests." She said.

"When will you be done?" Angel asked nervously.

"Preliminary tests should be done in about 16 hours," Fred said, "so late afternoon tomorrow?"

"Monday afternoon?" Angel though, "fine, I'll clear my schedual. This is my most important case at the moment. Spike, I think you should hear the test results too… Spike?"

The younger vampire's eyes were focused vaguely on the filing cabinet across the room from him. There were two stakes sitting on top of it. He remembered playing pirates with those stakes. "Monday". He mouthed. Tomorrow would be Monday. There was something he had to remember about Monday… something he had promised to do… "Tilly." Spike said, suddenly standing up, "I promised I'd play with her tomorrow."

The adults looked shocked by his outburst. Wesley was the first to reply, "I don't know if that will still be possible." He said.

Spike looked confused, so Fred elaborated gently, "She doesn't know… about you… changing."

Spike furrowed his brow, a moment of absolute childishness overcoming him, "But, I'm like… her best friend. You can't just not tell her."

Wesley and Fred looked at each other, perpetuating the parental roles they already played. "He's right," Fred said, "She's going to be more upset if he doesn't come tomorrow."

Wesley relented, relaxing his gaze, "alright. We'll bring her over tomorrow afternoon."

The adults ignored Spike as they began discussing boring worky matters, like who had meeting, and who could collect Tilly. Spike lounged back on the couch. How would Tilly react? Surely she'd be ecstatic. Spike was a kid again… a bit older then her, but still… and little kids idolised teenagers.

As quickly as they had surfaced, Spike's thoughts of Tilly faded, as he once again mused over the seductive and mysterious Natasha. Another vampire. Another vampire his age. A gorgeous vampire, who had totally been flirting with him. Things were going to get interesting.


	4. Plans, as They Go Awry

**Chapter Four  
Plans, as they go Awry**

I am so sorry, as always, that this chapter has taken more then a month to get out… no matter how good my intentions are, these chapters refuse to get written on time. I also apologise for not replying to all the wonderful reviews I received. Your comments were all wonderful, thoughtful, inspiring and read with great pleasure. I'm sorry I didn't get to reply to lots of them, because I would have loved to talk about the advice and compliments you gave me. However, as so often seems to happen to me, I ran out of time. Next chapter, I will reply to you all )

So… this chapter got completely out of control… what was supposed to be a twelve page chapter at most, spiralled into fifteen pages, then seventeen, then … so I cut it in half. ) The upside is, the next chapter is already half written. The downside is, this chapter seems to be all build up, and little resolution…

Oh oh oh… You'll meet Dameon this chapter… I wanted to have a bit more fun with him and Natasha… but my lovely Editor, advised me my plot lines were way too- "Unusual" and "kinda weird". So he's been slightly censored ) It's probably for the better.

Omg! And, on the subject of life coaches- my friend's step-mother recently invested her gold digging fortune in a life coach. He's this awesome zen monk guy, who randomly comes up with wise sayings. Yesterday, he came up with his best by far "It is, what it is." What an awesome guy P

Wolfram and Hart's cable network was literally out of this world. They got broadcasts not only from human satellite, digital and cable TV networks, but also the multitude of earth based demonic and mystical stations, not to mention plenty of channels not from this dimension at all and at least 10,000 free-access surveillance channels of clients and enemies. Spike picked up the remote angrily and pressed the large red 'power' button, switching the set off. "Almost a billion channels and there's nothing to bloody watch." He complained. The young vampire leant back on his chair, and gave his grandsire an upsidown pout "Angie, I'm bored."

Angel sighed. He looked up from the many documents he was constantly reading and signing, to regard his adolescent charge. "What do you want me to do about it?"

Spike hoped of the couch and bounded over to Angel's desk. "Give me something to do!" he pleaded. "Some action, some adventure!" He snatched up the papers Angel had been reading. "There must be a case here for me! Something I can slay, some damsel or puppy I can rescue?"

Angel tersely snatched his papers back. "I'm not giving you any cases while you're in this state. It's much too dangerous."

Spike frowned. "I'm not a baby Angel. Don't treat me like one."

"You may not be a baby, but you are a child," Angel said. "And I do not let children slay dangerous demons."

"I am not a child!" Spike yelled in anguish, "God, when will you open your eyes and see I'm a grown-up now?"

Angel sensed he might have put his foot in it, and decided to end the conversation, "no cases. My word is final."

Spike sat down again with a grumble. There was nothing to do in this stupid building. Nothing even remotely fun. Spike was bored of this office, bored of Angel, bored of this stupid age. There was absolutely nothing interesting to do- except Natasha.

Now there was a girl a vamp could sink his teeth into. She had completely dominated his thoughts since their chance meeting yesterday. He desperately wanted to see her again, but he had no idea where to look. She hinted that she lived around here, possibly in Wolfram & Hart itself. Maybe she was property of the law firm, like Tilly was. Spike sat up, a plan forming. He could go for a walk, and maybe, with a bit of luck, he'd bump into her. Anything would be better then sitting around in this boring office.

"Angie," Spike called coyly, as he got of the couch again. "Can I go for a walk?"

Angel furrowed his brow, "Why?"

"Because you're boring," Spike said. "Anything has got to be better then this."

Angel ignored the insult, "Where are you going to go?"

"Just down to the lobby or something," Spike said nonchalantly. "I dunno! It's just a walk. Maybe I'll find a vending machine and get myself a snack."

"I don't want you getting into trouble," Angel said. "Or causing any."

Spike grinned in what he thought was an endearing manner. "I'll be good," he said. "Cross my heart and hope to die- again."

"Fine," Angel relented. "But I want you back in an hour. Fred and Wes are coming."

Spike grabbed his duster from the couch and threw it around his shoulders. "They're brining Tilly! Of course I'll be back!"

"Don't talk to any one you don't know," Angel said. "If you get lost, call me alright? And I'll come find you."

"Yes mummy." Spike gave Angel a wave goodbye, and sauntered out the door.

"I mean it!" Angel called out after him. "Don't do anything stupid!"

"Don't count on it," Spike called back.

Natasha carefully touched the black mascara wand to her long black eyelashes, instinctively opening her mouth as she applied the dark gluggy make-up. She was seated at a desk in 'The Den', an unused office in Wolfram and Hart that Natasha and her gang, 'The Dark Fangs', had commandeered to be their head quarters. It had all the comforts a teenage vampire could want – a mini-bar full of blood and junk food, a TV with cable and an x-box, a killer stereo system and a box of dark magicks in the corner.

"This would be so much easier if I could see myself," Natasha grumbled, setting down her mascara wand. "How's it look?"

Her little blond friend, Sophia, looked up from brushing her hair, "Fine. You always look fine."

Natasha gave her friend a pout, "I don't want to look fine," she said, flattening her tight red vest over her stylish white collared shirt. "I want to look hot."

"It looks hot then."

Natasha reached for a blood red lipstick, and began to apply it to her deathly pale lips.

In another corner of the room, a thin boy with heavily dyed black hair and completely black clothes to match, was meditating. He was seated inside a large pentacle, drawn in white chalk, and in front of him was a white crystal. He began to chant quietly in Latin.

Sophia glared at him, "Michael, that's really annoying" she said.

The Goth boy looked up, "I was trying to reach the astral plane," he grumbled. "It takes intense concentration to connect with something that's outside our reality. Only in a deeply meditative state of magical comatose can one attain true understanding of the higher existence."

Sophia ignored his hyperbole and instead snatched up the white crystal Michael had been using in his spell. "Ooh! Pretty."

"Sophia," Michael whined. "It's not pretty! It's a receptacle form immense dark power!"

"I like the way it sparkles," Sophia said. "Can I have it, sweetie?" Michael looked torn. Satisfy his girlfriend, or reach the astral plane. Sophia batted her eyelashes at him.

He sighed, and mumbled "Anything for you, my love."

Sophia kissed him. "Aww! You're the best boyfriend ever."

Natasha rolled her eyes. She turned away from the couple, now thoroughly engaged in locking lips, and concentrated her attention on the far side of The Den. It was lit by the eerie white glow of a television. The set currently displayed W&H surveillance channel #7340. Seated on a dark green couch, already watching the TV was Natasha's step-brother Dameon.

She walked silently across the room. She could feel his eyes move from the screen as she walked. He knew where she was- his vampire hearing picked up the soft whisper of dispelled air as Natasha stepped forward. No matter how silent she was, he knew her movements.

She stoped beside his chair. Dameon's eyes moved from the television screen to look sideways at his step-sister. "Your boy's leaving," he said.

Natasha walked her fingers along his shoulder towards his neck, "Where's he going?"

"I'm not a mind reader," He chided. His voice stayed at a low pur however, not angry.

Natasha smiled. She ran her finger along Dameon's neck. He shivered as her fingers brushed against his scar.

"He's just left the office." Dameon elaborated, motioning with a thin pale finger at the figure on the screen. Spike.

"Then it's time to move," Natasha said. "C'mon Soap, we should be able to head him off at the entrance to the lobby."

Sophia and Michael took a time out from their game of tonsil hockey. They grabbed their coats, and joined Natasha at the door.

Natasha looked pointedly at Dameon, who was still sitting on the couch, "I'm not going." He said.

"You have to," said Natasha.

"No I don't," He replied, "this is your game, not mine." She glared at him. "Fine," he relented, "I'll come. But you owe me something special." He gave her a devilish wink. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Hey, love."

Harmony looked up from painting her nails, to see a pale blond boy in a big leather duster eyeing her over the counter. "Eww," she said, "I mean, hello, welcome to Wolfram and Hart."

The boy smiled his best roughish smile, "I bet you say that to all the handsome hero types."

"Duh," Harmony said tersely, dipping the brush back into the nail polish bottle to begin on her index finger. "They pay me to say it. What do you want, kid?"

"Kid!" Spike exclaimed, "I'm older then you Harm. You're bloody 17."

"I am as old as I see myself," Harmony said, in an oddly empowered and pompous tone, "My life coach says that just because I was young when I was sired, doesn't mean I haven't grown. It's disrespectful and discriminative for Angel to use my eternally young gorgeous looks against me."

Spike rolled his eyes, "You have a life coach? You're dead, what he coaching you for?"

"Who are you anyway?" Harmony asked, "you're kinda rude."

Spike was shocked. "It's me- Spike!" He said. Harmony still looked confused, so he leaned in close and whispered, "Blondie Bear."

Harmony gasped, "Spike? What happened to you?"

"Nothing," Spike said. "Ok, something. I got a little younger."

"A little?" Harmony said, "You're like a baby!"

"Am not!" Spike pouted.

"And ewww, were you cracking onto me?"

Spike shuffled his feet. "You never used to mind." He muttered.

"Yeah, that was before you were twelve." Harmony said.

"I'm not twelve," Spike growled. "I'm fifteen! Can't anyone see that?"

"You look twelve to me," Harmony said, "and that duster is too big for you."

Spike gave her a glare, "you act twelve." He retorted.

"I'm as old as I see myself!" Harmony said, repeating her life coach's motivational quotes. "I am a valuable member of this organisation. I do not have to take your abuse."

"Is this idiot bothering you?"

Harmony turned to face who she thought was her rescuer, and sighed exasperatedly, "Yes!"

"I wasn't talking to you," Natasha said, for it was she who had arrived to break up the squabble. "Spike, is this idiot bothering you?"

Spike gave Harmony a malicious glare, as if to say, 'Ha ha, I win'. "She's not worth being bothered by."

"Lets leave her to her menial desk job then, shall we?" Natasha suggested.

"Hey!" Harmony cried. "Respect your elders."

Spike gave her a withering glance, "I have a good 100 years on you Harm, so can just sod off. Go cry to your life coach." He and Natasha turned away from the fuming Harmony and proceeded down one of the corridors leading off from the lobby.

Harmony watched them go, before grabbing the phone and hitting the speed dial, "Master Haru? It's me… I had an encounter with a fellow employee, and he's made me feel very devalued."

"You're familiar with the hired help?" Natasha asked, once they were out of Harmony sight.

"We, unfortunately, have a history," Spike explained. "Plus, I'm kinda her boss."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Well, I work for- with- Angel, who's her boss." Spike said.

"Who's Angel?" Asked Natasha.

"Big broody type," Spike said, "He has a serious redemption complex. He used to try and kill these lawyers, but now he just bosses them around."

"I must have missed the memo," Natasha mused.

"I hoped I'd run into you." Spike said.

"Your lucky day then," Said Natasha. She stopped at a door and nocked.

"Who is it?" A girl's voice called from within.

"Natasha. Open up Soap."

"What's the password?" The girl behind the door asked.

"Michael likes to kiss boys." Natasha said.

The door opened to reveal the blond girl Spike had seen with Natasha yesterday. She looked annoyed "That's not the password!" She snapped.

Natasha laughed, "No, but it's true." She walked past Sophia, into one of the many unused offices. This one was currently occupied by three teenagers, presumably Natasha's friends, lounged around the practical office furniture.

Sophia directed her attention towards Spike "You're not really so tall," the tiny girl said.

"Spike, you remember my friend Sophia." Sophia gave him a grin, and Spike gave her a nod in reply. "This is Michael," Natasha went on, indicating a dark haired goth-type leaning against the wall of the office. "He's a man-witch."

"Sorcerer," Sophia interrupted, "he's also, my boyfriend."

Michael gave Spike a troubled-angsty glare from under his long black fringe, "You have a dark aura, friend," he said, his voice croaky and low "but I see a silver lining. Heavy."

Natasha rolled her eyes, "What ever that means."

Spike's eyes were draw away from Michael, towards a boy lounging in the high backed black chair behind the huge desk dominating the room. He was annoyingly well dressed and his thin sneer of a smile instantly irritated Spike. His eyes glittered as Spike glared at him.

Natasha's voice jolted Spike from his thoughts, "And my step-brother, Dameon."

Dameon stood up, extending a hand towards Spike across the desk, "Charmed, Spike." He said the name with just a hint of mocking. He had a pompous, rich-kid, over-educated American accent – which Spike hated.

"Right," Spike said, shaking his hand, "nice to meet you, Yank."

"He's a vampire," Natasha said, in an attempt to dispel the tension between the two boys.

"Sired by my lovely step-sister," He said, smiling at Natasha. Dameon's eyes glittered almost disturbingly.

Natasha looked away uncomfortably. "And Sophia is a were-wolf." She said, hurriedly changing the subject. "Well, 3 nights of every month."

Sophia held up her hands as if baring her claws, and growled.

"It's a whole football team of beasties," Spike said. He turned to Michael, "and I spose you're some kind of furry too?" He asked sarcastically.

"I am a dark Sorcerer," He said.

"He thinks he's a dark sorcerer," Natasha said. "I've never actually seen him perform any magic."

"You're lack of faith is disappointing, Natasha," Michael said, "When I reach my full power, you will learn not to speak to me in such a way. Magic is a secret art well beyond your perception… but you will learn child, you will learn."

Sophia looked adoringly at Michael, "You're so sexy when you talk about dark power." She said.

"Eww." Natasha looked about ready to bite Michael

"How did you end up here?" Spike asked, "Wolfram and Hart I mean. It's not their usual policy to hire minors- or are you clients?"

"Neither," Natasha said. "We're… property. Abandoned, Orphaned or sold for magical favours. Wolfram and Hart owns us."

"Like my friend Tilly," Spike said. "I know this girl- this little kid- Matilda. Her parents sold her to Wolfram and Hart, because of her powers. She lives in containment."

"Oh! I know where that is," Sophia said helpfully.

"Sophia stays in containment for the nights she goes wolfie," Natasha explained. "So, you have a friend in containment. You must be pretty familiar with the place then."

"Well yeah, I've helped her break out a few times." Spike chuckled, "so I know the escapes pretty well."

"Perhaps you could help us with something," Natasha suggested.

"He doesn't have to get involved," Dameon interrupted.

Spike glared at him, "The lady was speaking."

"I was just thinking, you could help us rescue something from containment," Natasha said. "Our puppy."

"Puppy?" Containment was Wolfram and Hart's holding cells for the more dangerous and interesting creatures they acquired. It was home to demons and magical beasts – not puppy dogs.

"Rex!" Sophia said excitedly, "He's kept all locked up in the cell across from mine. And he gets so lonely. We want to take him for a walk."

Spike looked at Natasha. Helping rescue this dog could definitely score him hero points with the gorgeous vampire. "Of course I'll help." He said. "Just tell me how."

Natasha beamed at him, "Can you get us into containment unnoticed?"

Spike grinned, baring his pointy fangs, "Piece of cake, love."

The Clerk manning the security desk gave Fred a dirty look, "Do you have the correct release form?" He asked.

Fred presented him with a yellow form she had filled out earlier, "Containment Release form #306 – Temporary Release Under Senior Supervision."

The Clerk looked the form over, though he knew it would be filled in correctly. Miss Burkle came almost everyday with an identical form to take Subject #689 4235, Matilda Goldberg, from her cell. If Miss Burkle didn't come, Mr Wyndam-Pryce would. Their forms were always correct to the letter. The containment department was beginning to get annoyed, but there was nothing they could do. As long as the forms were filled out correctly, and signed by a director or partner, then any employee could remove subjects from Containment.

"Who authorised this?" The Clerk asked, pointing to the signature at the bottom.

"Mr Angel," Fred said. She had about 50 identical forms with Angel's signature waiting to be filled out, any time she wanted to see Tilly.

The clerk sighed "This seems to be in order," he said slowly, "would you like the subject to be brought up here?"

"No, I can go and get her myself," Fred said. She checked her watch, Wesley was running late again. She could wait, but then they'd both be late to meet Angel. With tensions running to high about Spike it was probably best not to worry Angel further. "If Mr Wydam-Pryce arrives, c'n you tell him where I am?" The clerk gave her a withering glare, "please?" she added.

"Of course, Miss Burkle." Whether he liked it or not, Fred out ranked him.

Clearance form in hand, Fred passed through the security doors and into the blinding white corridors of the Containment Department. Though they were plain and white, Fred knew these walls well. Between the plain white walls, kept behind bullet and magic proof glass, were the creatures of containment. Once Fred had known them only as beasts- gnashing teeth, pointy claws, frightening powers and five digit security codes to get to them. Then she had met Tilly. This happy, normal, little girl lived among the beasts. She wasn't evil, or dangerous, and she wasn't a brainless monster.

As she walked, Fred cast her eyes over at the creatures being held in the containment cells. Where they really monsters? Or just prisoners like Tilly? How many other innocent creatures were branded "dangerous" and locked up for no reason?

She looked to her left- her gaze meeting that of a hell hound. The beast froze, as Fred look at it. Suddenly it sprang forward, snarling and barking. Fred jumped back in fright. Drool flew from the dog's filthy jaws as it snapped at Fred from behind the glass. She moved hurriedly away.

"Aun'y Fred!" Tilly cried in excitement when Fred arrived at her cell. On the other side of the glass, Fred was oblivious to Tilly's voice, but she saw the little girl's smile, and beamed back. She typed in the security code on the keypad, to release the door. It slid back with a whoosh of pressurised air being released.

Tilly ran at Fred, who knelt down to catch the little girl in her arms, "Tilly!"

"I've been waiting all day," Tilly said, pretending to be cross.

"Sorry," Fred said, "I've been working."

"Where's Uncle Wes?" Tilly asked.

"He's meeting us back at the front desk." Tilly adored Wesley. Somewhere between a crush and idol worship- Tilly had latched on to Wesley with such a fierce affection he couldn't help but love her back. He was her hero. Fred knew their affection went beyond that though. Being part demon, Tilly was gifted with being able to see people's shadows. The dark past they hid from themselves and others. Wesley had dark secrets- things about his childhood that he kept from his friends. And something else, something more recent, that Fred felt she knew- but couldn't remember. Something maybe even Wesley didn't remember. Tilly saw it all- she knew the worst Wesley had done. And she forgave him unconditionally. Wesley loved her for that.

"Lets go then." Tilly grabbed Fred's hand and started to pull her away.

Fred struggled with Tilly, "Wait! Are you sure you've got everything?"

Tilly nodded, "yes yes, sure sure. Hurry up!"

"Where's your torch?"

Tilly sighed, and pulled her little pink emergency torch out of her skirt pocket "Here." She turned it on and waved it around. "Working fine. Can we go now?"

"Alright," Fred said. "We can go. But be careful. There's a dog in here, and it scared me earlier."

Tilly laughed. "Don't be silly, Aun'y Fred. What ever animals are in here are locked up. So don't worry." She spoke in a patronisingly comforting voice a parent would use with a child. "They can't get you."

6pm, and the south door of the Containment Department was unguarded. Spike knew it would be. He had smuggled Tilly out of Containment on more then one occasion, and she taught him all the tricks to making a good escape. "The night guard on the south door is always late," Tilly had told him, "and the day guard is having an affair with the receptionist from industrial finances. So he always leaves right on the dot of six, to go meet her. There's at least a fifteen minute gap between them- perfect for escaping."

Sure enough, she was right. At exactly five to 6, the guard had taken off his cap and replaced his walky-talky. By 6 on the dot, he was gone.

Spike scanned the area, but could see no sign of the night guard- he wouldn't be in for at least fifteen minutes. "We should be in and out in ten minutes," Spike whispered to Natasha, who was crouched by the door to Containment with him, "to be safe. Time to call the cavalry."

Natasha whistled softly, and Sofia came skipping around the corner from the outer passage, followed by Michael and a nonchalant Dameon. "It's time to go guys," she instructed, "follow Spike's lead until we get into the east wing, alright?"

"Fine by me," Dameon said, "what are your orders then, oh great leader?" He addressed Spike with a mocking grin, which Spike returned in kind.

"How 'bout I order you to go first? So if the critters are out of their cages, they'll get you and we'll have time to escape?"

"Oh yes," Dameon sneered, "very brave."

"They will escape and cause havoc," Michael said, "I have forseen it."

Sofia gave him a 'no duh' look. "No duh. That's why we're-"

Natasha whacked her shoulder before Sofia could continue. "that's why we're going to be careful, right Soap?"

"Yeah," Sofia said, sullenly rubbing her arm, "that's what I was going to say."

"Does anyone remember the guard who will be here in fifteen minutes?" Dameon asked, "Or, fourteen now. We don't have time to waste bickering."

"We're going," Spike said. "Don't forget who's team leader."

"Only until the east wing." Dameon said.

"Miss Burkle has already gone to collect Subject #689 4235," The clerk informed Wesley, as he stepped through the archway into the Containment Department. "She left approximately ten minutes ago. You may wait here, if you wish."

Wesley nodded curtly, "thank you. I will."

The clerk eyed Wesley uneasily. He opened his mouth, but shut it again quickly. He obviously wanted to say something, but knew Wesley was his superior. The ex watcher turned away- uninteresting in what he had to say. This place was a prison, and this man- Tilly's jailor. What ever he had to say, Wesley didn't want to hear.

"Mr Wyndam-Pryce," the clerk began. Wesley looked up. The clerk faltered, but it was too late to turn back now. "This is not a day-care centre. You and Miss Burkle are blatantly abusing Wolfram and Harts facilities. Subject #689 4235 is not your property when you wish it, and ours when it's not convenient for you."

Wesley spoke slowly and menacingly, "I hardly think that is any of your business. A desk clerk would do wisely to remember his place." The pure steel of the ex-watchers glare was enough to make the clerk hurriedly return his attention to his computer monitor. He had hit too close to the mark- and both he and Wesley knew it.

A hideous noise echoed from deep within the corridors of Containment, breaking the tension in the foyer. Wesley and the clerk looked up, the noise bouncing off the walls around them. A scream. A woman's frightened scream.

Wesley gasped, "Fred."


	5. When Beasties Attack

Chapter 5  
When Beasties Attack

A/N: The second half of last chapter ) Some resolution, and more lose ends created P as always.

Not as many reviews as last time ( oh well… I spose that's my comeuppance for leaving it so long between posts.

I'm really worried about next chapter… it's not coming together like I'd hoped. And I have major assessment coming up soon. I'll do my best to get it up ASAP.

* * *

"A hell hound." Spike breathed. Rex snarled and snapped as the teenagers approached his cage. His red snout was wet with splatters of drool. Protruding from blackened gums were a row of sharp menacing teeth. Spike was not the type to frighten easily, but looking at this mad animal, frothing at the mouth, made him more then a little apprehensive.

"Hello Rex, Hello," Sophia cooed to the hell hound. "Shh, be a good boy. Mummy's come to rescue you. Yes she has."

"So, this is your dog?" Spike asked.

Natasha smiled. "Cute, isn't he?"

Spike would have described him as a hideous wild beast, but impressing Natasha was his main aim in life at the moment, and it coloured his judgement. "Gorgeous lil' pup," he agreed.

"Let's let him out." Sophia cried.

"We can't, love," Spike said. "We don't have the security code."

Dameon snarled violently and charged at the security key pad, fangs bared. He ripped it right of the wall trailing wires and sparks. "There's more then one way to skin a cat." He lisped around his vampire incisors. The whole door sparked as the break in the electrical circuit took its tole. The lights flickered and blew out.

Rex whimpered. "It's alright puppy," Sophia cooed.

Natasha, also in full vampire form, simply pulled the mechanic door sideways and it slid smoothly open.

The hell hound nervously sniffed the air. "It's alright Rex, you're a good boy. C'mon out." 'Rex' took a few tentative steps out into the corridor. Sophia held out her hand to him, "come on. Here boy."

Spike heard something to his left. A low quiet rumble. Too soft to be heard by human ears- Spike's vampiric hearing only just picked it up. It was Natasha. She was growling.

The hell hound obviously heard it. His ears flew backwards, as if recoiling from a horrible noise. He bared his vicious teeth and barked.

From the corner of his eye, Spike saw in slow motion, Natasha smile. She growled again.

The noise drove Rex wild. He lunged forward and bit Sophia's hand, leaving four heavy red tooth marks on her white skin.

Sophia yelped. "Rex!" Tears sprung into her eyes.

The hell hound took no notice. He snarled, this time at Natasha. He readied his back legs to jump at her. Seeing Natasha in danger, Spike leapt into action. He kicked Rex in the gut, sending the dog skimming over the white tiles. It made a strangled cry halfway between a yelp and a bark.

"Spike," Natasha gasped. "You saved… thankyou."

"Save it," Spike said, "Before you go praising me, I suggest we catch that dog."

But Spike's suggestion was too late. Rex had recovered from his fall, and was back on all four paws. He snapped twice and glared at Spike, but the dog knew when it was beaten. With one last growl he turned tail and ran down the corridor away from the teenagers. They stood in stunned silence as their pet disappeared, to cause havoc else where.

Sophia was the first to speak, "Michael," she whined, "Kiss my hand better."

Spike looked at her aghast. They'd just let a monstrous beast loose on Wolfram and Hart, and all she cared about was her stupid hand? "What about that thing?" he said. "We have to catch it."

"No we don't," Natasha said silkily, "It'll be much more fun this way."

Dameon put a cold thin hand on Spike's shoulder, "You see Spike," He said, "this was our plan all along. And we couldn't have done it without you."

Spike didn't have time to reply. A scream from within the Containment department ripped the air.

"Ah," Natasha said, "the first victim."

Spike's feet moved before his brain did. The scream was still echoing off the walls as he ran in the direction the beast had gone. He recognised that scream. Rex had found fresh meat.

* * *

The dog came out of nowhere. It was upon them before either had time to react. Fred's first instinct was to protect Tilly. She pushed the little girl behind her as the animal's sharp fangs raced forward and sank into her arm. She screamed.

"Aun'y Fred!" Tilly gasped. The little girl was shaking in fright.

"It's alright, Tilly," Fred gasped. She threw her arm sideways with all the strength she possessed. The hell hound flew off tearing deep cuts in Fred's arm. The pain was terrible but she bit down on her bottom lip and kept her cry to herself. The dog hit the ground hard knocking the wind out of its chest. They had precious few seconds until it recovered. "Run," Fred gasped to Tilly, staggering forward herself, "quickly, run!"

Tilly blundered forward, tears streaming down her face. Fred kept a tight hold on her hand as they both stumbled forward. There was a snarl as the dog recovered. Fred knew it was right behind them and gaining fast, but she didn't dare look. Any moment it would catch up and tear them apart.

At least, Fred though, if the dog caught them it would take her first and Tilly would have time to run away. She could hold her own for maybe a minute or two, without a weapon. She hoped that would be enough time for Tilly to escape.

Where had it come from? It seemed to have lunged straight out of the tiles. Containment was full of scary animals, but Fred had never imagined they could escape.

There was a growl, and Fred knew it was right behind them. She turned to face it, pushing Tilly behind her. "Run Tilly, quickly!"

The dog stayed a meter back, snarling and bearing its teeth in a show of aggression.

"I won't leave you," Tilly sobbed.

Fred looked around desperately for a weapon. She stepped slowly backwards, away from the dog, trying to think of something she could do to distract it. She pulled off her shoe, and threw it over the beast's head. It clattered on the white tiles. The dog momentarily looked behind it to see what the noise was. Fred used this time to pull of her other shoe and throw it at the dog. It collided with the animals' snout, just as it turned around again.

It whimpered more out of surprise then pain. Fred grabbed Tilly around the waste and ran down the corridor with her. The dog gave chase, its claws clattering on the tiles.

The lights above began to flicker. Something had happened to the electricity. "Got your torch?" Fred asked Tilly.

Matilda fumbled with her little pink light. She turned it on, just as the power went out. Back up power brought a yellow glow to the lights over head. It was light enough for Fred to see, but the shadows were everywhere. The dog was nearby, Fred could smell its rank doggy odour, and hear it's ragged breath. It was stalking them from the shadows. Waiting for the moment to pounce.

"Is the torch working ok?" Fred asked Tilly.

Tilly held her torch below her chin, as if she were telling a ghost story. "It's fi-" Tilly screamed and dropped her torch as the dog lunged out of the darkness. Its gnashing jaws missed Tilly by inches. Fred yanked her backwards just in time. Tilly began to cry hysterically.

Fred picked her up again and ran desperately down the corridors, looking everywhere for a weapon.

There was a red fire extinguisher on the wall a few meters ahead. It wasn't a great weapon. But it was the best they had. Fred pushed Tilly into the wall behind her, and ripped the extinguisher of its wall bracket. The dog leapt at them and was met with a face full of extinguisher foam. It yelped, but the chemicals were harmless, and it soon shook the bubbles off.

Fred threw the extinguisher can at the dog in a last effort to escape it. The creature yowled in pain as the heavy metal canister slammed onto its back. Fred gasped. The stress on her muscles where the dog had bitten her was too much to bear.

She stood up straight with her arms out, shielding Tilly as best she could. The creature advanced. It took a few paces back, ready to charge. Fred closed her eyes, unable to watch as it charged forwards. The sound of its claws clattering on the tiles and its putrid jaws gnashing got closer and closer. Its hot breath puffed out against Fred's neck as it went in for the kill.

The creature yelped in pain. Fred opened her eyes to see it hurtling in reverse. The dog was being pulled backwards by its tail. Someone had come to their rescue. The saviour threw the dog sideways slamming it into a wall. "Leave her alone." He growled.

"Spike?" Fred gasped.

"Aun'y Fred," Spike dropped to his knees beside her, "blood hell, your arm." Fred flinched as Spike touched the large red cuts on her arm. Spike pulled back almost as quickly as Fred did. Her blood was warm, and smelt almost appetising.

From behind Fred, crouching in the darkness, Tilly looked at their rescuer, "Spike?" she whispered. Her little pink torch fluttered in the darkness, the battery dieing.

"The thing," Fred said.

Spike looked behind him. The hell hound had recovered from Spike's last attack and was looking angry. "uh-oh". Spike turned to face the monster he had released. "Back off, Puppy."

Rex charged. His white gnashing fangs sank into Spike's thigh, causing the vampire boy to groan with pain. With a yell, he kicked the dog off him. Rex didn't go far, and he was quickly back on his feet, ready for another attack.

Spike struggled to stand- his injured leg shaking with the effort. The dog growled and jumped at him again, this time biting his shoulder. He fell backwards, crashing into Fred and bringing them both down. With a bleeding leg and a throbbing arm, Spike began to feel afraid. "Fred," He gasped, "I think I botched this up a little."

A cold wind filled the corridor. The hairs on Spike's neck stood up. Something dark was rising. The dim glow from the back up lights was almost shut out as dark tendrils swarmed over the ceiling. The whispers of a thousand angry lost souls filled the air.

Spike was afraid to turn around, and see what was behind him. Tilly was changing. The shadows were taking her over.

"Tilly," Fred gasped, "Hunni, look at me."

Spike turned in time to see his little friend's head snap up. Her eyes were inky black, with glowing white centres. Dark shadows emanated from her, bathing her in their hideous black smog. Her skin shone with an eerie pale pallor. And her voice boomed with a million echoed cries when she spoke, "We have not forgotten."

In the darkness, the dog growled. Spike heard him snap his jaws, trying to stop the shadows closing in around him. The frenzied frightened animals thrashed around as the shadows tormented him as they tormented the humans.

The sound of a gun being fired ripped through the air. Rex whimpered, and fell silent. Spike and Fred turned, as a torch light filled the corridor. Immediately the shadows disappeared.

"Fred?"

Fred's face melted in relief. "Wesley." His face was half lit by the shafts of light splaying outwards from a torch held a lot in his left hand. In his right, fallen against his side, was a still smoking gun. Spike cowered instinctively. Wesley's grim expression scared the young vampire. There was something mad and very un-watcherly in the ex-watcher's eyes.

There was a dull thump as Tilly's body hit the floor. Wesley rushed to her side, his hard expression mollifying. "She fainted." He said. Spike looked on as the ex-watcher took Fred in his arms and kissed her forehead. "Are you alright?" he asked. Fred nodded, her head pressed against his chest. He turned to face Spike, his eyes dark and mad again,

"Did you do this?" he asked. Spike didn't reply. "Did you?"

The vampire boy looked down. "I can explain," he mumbled. "It was just- I never meant- this was their idea…"

"I'm calling Angel," Wes said.

"No!" Spike began to protest.

"Either I call Angel, and he deals with this," Wesley said, "Or I stake you now for putting the people I love in danger."

The expression on Wesley's face told Spike the ex-watcher was deadly serious. "Call Angel." He gulped.

* * *

Angel glowered at Spike from across his large desk. "I expressly told you to stay out of trouble."

"And I tried," Spike pleaded.

"What on earth were you thinking?" Angel boomed. "No. You can't have been thinking at all. A hell hound. You know perfectly well those are dangerous. I can't believe you'd be so stupid- to put people at risk like that. People could have died. Fred and Tilly are still in hospital."

Spike pulled his duster nervously over his injured shoulder. He didn't want Angel to see that he was hurt. He was in enough trouble without having to deal with Angel going all angry-protective-parent.

"You broke into Containment," Angel continued "You destroyed company property."

"It wasn't my idea!" Spike cried, "Natasha made me do it."

"Who?"

"Natasha," said Spike. "This girl."

Angel leant back in his chair and sighed a heavy sigh. "A girl." He rubbed his heavy brow, the trade mark brood lines appearing. "What is it with you and girls? Drusilla made you bad. Buffy made you good. Now this Natasha-"

"It really was her fault," Spike interjected. "Her and Sophia. They wanted me to rescue their dog."

"Rescue? Spike, are you really that dumb?" Angel paused. "Wait, don't answer that."

"I screwed up, alright?" Spike said, getting angrily to his feet, "Is that what you want to hear? I did. I messed up big time, I followed some stupid girl and I nearly got Fred and Tilly killed." He winced, and clutched his leg where Rex had bitten it.

"What's wrong?" Angel asked.

"Nothing."

The older vampire got out of his chair and moved towards his ward, "I can smell your blood, Spike. Let me see how bad it is." Spike pulled up his trouser leg to reveal a bloody calf. "And the other one," Angel said. Spike pulled off his duster, revealing the torn shoulder.

Angel inspected his wounds. "You're healing already." Spike expected Angel to continue to lecture him, probably about the danger he put himself in, but Angel seemed to have calmed down. His paternal concern had outweighed his rage. "Why didn't you block?"

"I don't know how," said Spike.

Angel scoffed, "You're a fantastic fighter Spike, I've seen you. You're almost as good as me." Angel grudgingly mumbled. "Maybe it's part of the regression. Those parts of your life are being repressed. Extreme violence, overtly sexual situations, the sort of things a teenager would want but shouldn't have."

Spike raised and eyebrow at his grandsire. "You're doing that thing where you mumble to yourself."

"Sorry," He said. "Look, let me show you how to block. Follow me. Stand like this." Angel steadied his legs and held up his arms, as if expecting an enemy. Spike followed his lead. Angel pulled up his left arm and pushed his chin back, fixing his stance. "Good. Now you're ready for an attack. You can either face it with aggression, or choose to defend from here." Angel moved back. "Now I'm going to try and hit you. And I want you to block."

Spike smiled almost evilly as Angel stood opposite him. "I'll try."

Angel stared at Spike, his dark brown eyes looking straight into Spike's blue one. The intensity of that stare had been enough to bring girls to tears and make men cower in centuries past. If Spike was intimidated, he didn't show it. He returned Angel's gaze with a calm cool smirk.

Angel struck out unexpectedly. His fist moved so fast it would have been halfway towards Spike's chin before a human eye could detect it. The air whooshed back as his fist sailed towards Spike.

The younger vampire blocked. He stopped Angel's attack, and threw his own punch under Angel's arm connecting with his stomach.

"Oof," Angel grunted. Both vampires were still. Spike's arm quivered as he pulled back from his grandsire, afraid of Angel's wrath.

"Um- sorry," Spike said. "I didn't meant to... I mean it was just like-"

"Instinct," Angel said and to Spike's surprise, he was smiling. "That was instinct, Spike. The part inside that just knows what to do. Or doesn't even know what to do but it just does it. You've got that fighter's instinct." He gave Spike a clap on the shoulders beaming like a proud father.

"Yeah?" Spike beamed. "Yeah, how bout we go again."

The world seemed to slow, in Spikes eyes as she scene suddenly changed. Angel stopped smiling. He staggered backwards, looking at Spike with a mixture of fear and horror. Spike stoped towards Angel, his young features displaying his hurt and confusion.

"Angel-"

"No, I can't do this," Angel croaked. "Not again."

"Can't do what?" Spike asked in confusion.

Angel mumbled something that sounded like "Connor."

"Connor?" Spike said. "Who's Connor?"

Angel didn't reply. Abruptly he turned back to Spike, his expression still broody but not hurt or shocked any more. "I think that's enough excitement for today Spike. I'll finish up here, and we can go home. You need to let your wounds heal. Tomorrow I'll think of a suitable consequence for your actions."

He said no more about his son. Spike knew it would be use asking. He had caused enough trouble for one day.


End file.
